


We Were Ourselves When We Met

by bedtimefanfic



Category: Batman - All Media Types, DCU (Comics), Superman - All Media Types
Genre: Clark is not Superman yet but he will be soon, First Kiss, Hurt Bruce Wayne, I was trying something, Identity Reveal, Literal Sleeping Together, M/M, Minor Injuries, POV Third Person Omniscient, Pre-Canon, You'll see what I mean, and Bruce has only just started being Batman, elements of Birthright, honestly this fits into no particular continuity, i actually wrote this a while ago but i still like it so here y'all go
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-27
Updated: 2020-07-27
Packaged: 2021-03-06 05:54:34
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,414
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25558420
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bedtimefanfic/pseuds/bedtimefanfic
Summary: New to being Batman, Bruce finds himself injured and by chance takes shelter with Clark, who has just moved to Metropolis and hasn't yet made his debut as Superman.
Relationships: Clark Kent/Bruce Wayne
Comments: 4
Kudos: 101





	We Were Ourselves When We Met

Bruce hit the shuddering fire escape and the breath was knocked from his lungs, like a 100 pound weight on his chest. Clark pulled the window open and stared at him for a moment, eyes wide in surprise, unfiltered in the fading sunlight. Bruce tried to turn his bare face away, having had no time for the Batsuit, in a strange city and unsure. Clark eyed the blood coursing its way past his eyes and held him from leaving.

"Let me help you, that cut looks deep."

Bruce is skeptical, his heart beating a staccato to leave, run away.

Clark coaxes him inside and closes the window so they're safe and hidden.

The scene is soft and dimly lit. The building is rundown and probably ought to be condemned. The furnishings and decoration are careworn and personal.

Names are exchanged. Bruce. Clark Kent.

They sat down on the sofa, the only place there was, aside from the bed a few paces away in the small room.

"How can you trust me?"

"You're hurt, and I guess you're in danger." Clark had the first aid supplies and got to work cleaning the cut on Bruce's temple, washing away the scarlet blood. "And I know you aren't carrying any weapons."

"How do you know that?"

Bruce was curious. Clark was hesitant.

Instead of waiting, Bruce said, "You live in a bad neighborhood, you know."

Clark shrugged abashedly. "I need a steady job before I can get something better. It's not too bad."

"No. You're right in the middle of Intergang's turf. You'll be paying protection soon."

Clark looked grim and set aside the wet cloth, grabbing antiseptic.

"That's going to change soon."

Bruce recognized the determination in Clark's voice. It drew his interest.

Clark asked, "Is that why you're here? Intergang? Are they after you?"

"Yes."

Clark was surprised at the blunt shortness of Bruce's answer but nodded.

"You're safe as long as you're here."

"I'm not safe anywhere. Nobody is."

Two pairs of eyes met, fleeting.

Bruce echoed Clark's earlier declaration, "But that's going to change ... someday."

Clark stared at Bruce, forgetting the task at hand. It wasn't stated like a wish but like a plan.

Bruce enjoyed the smile forming on Clark's face for a moment before clearing his throat and nodding towards the first aid kit laying open next to them. "Done?"

"It won't need stitches but you should be more careful." Bruce smirked. "Something tells me you won't, though."

"Probably not, no."

Clark nodded in acceptance. "You won't try to get hurt, will you?"

"I never do."

Clark finished packing up the medical supplies again, neatly and tightly in their box, and changed the subject. "You wouldn't happen to know anywhere safe I could move to, do you? I don't know Metropolis very well yet."

Clark leaned back on the sofa because Bruce shouldn't leave yet. Bruce did want to leave yet.

"I'm not from Metropolis," Bruce explained, allowing himself into a conversation.

"No? New York?"

"Gotham. I'm only here for business."

" _ Business _ business or Intergang business?"

"Yes. Both."

Clark looked at Bruce with an intense expression, mouth drawn in a line.

"May I ask you something?"

Bruce nodded, steeling himself against a wince when the injury on his temple stung.

"Are you ... are you behind the Batman creature that's been in the news lately?"

Bruce stared at Clark with what he hoped was an impassive enough expression. " _ Behind _ him?"

"Yeah. You know, creating the stories to scare criminals, helping the police?"

Clark looked at Bruce honestly, and Bruce considered telling him there was no such thing as the Batman. Then he didn't.

"I  _ am _ the Batman," he whispered. If the walls could hear, they wouldn't hear those quiet words.

Clark couldn’t tear his gaze away from Bruce. He was human, Clark checked again.

“You’re serious?”

A solemn nod in reply.

“Have you really done everything they’ve said you have?”

“Yes and no.”

“Yes and no?”

“Such as: yes, I fight against the criminal rats, deliver them to the police. No, I’m not a ghost and I don’t have fangs and glowing red eyes.”

Bruce didn’t let himself look away, daring Clark to not make him regret confessing his greatest secret. His life hung in the balance, on spider-web strings and soft lamplight.

Clark took a deep breath and trusted in the safety of what had been created.

“I’m not human.”

Bruce blinked. Of all the varied responses he predicted, that wasn’t one of them.

“I have powers. X-ray vision, super strength, super speed, freezing breath, and that’s not all of it. I can  _ fly _ .”

“Fly?” It wasn’t an adequate response but it was all Bruce had. Clark nodded and floated up off the sofa, several feet above where Bruce still sat.

“They’re a gift,” Clark said. “I can help so many people, if I only knew how. If only everyone wasn’t so afraid of me.”

Bruce frowned. “Afraid of you?” Clark nodded and sank back onto the sofa.

“I’ve tried to do good, but every time I do, I see fear. At what I can do, what I am.”

Bruce crossed his arms, leaned against the back of the sofa and tilted his head in consideration. “Because they see the day you turn against them.”

Clark’s blue eyes were turned down with sadness. “I could never,” he said with genuine feeling. “I only help, protect. That’s all I’ve ever done. Even those who have done wrong, I hold myself back. I’m  _ so _ careful.”

Clark took the costume – no, uniform – from the suitcase where he had hidden it.

Bruce ran the fabric through his fingers. It was unlike anything he’d seen before.

“And this protects you? It’s so thin.”

“I haven’t found anything on Earth yet that can hurt me. But the costume won’t tear, and it’s heat-resistant, flame-proof.”

“How did you manage that?” The question was serious. Bruce needed to know.

“The cloth was in the rocket I landed in. I didn’t create it.”

Clark watched Bruce trace the shield. His touch was too delicate considering what Clark has just told him.

“An S?”

“It looks that way but it can’t be. We think it’s a symbol of something important to them.”

Clark met Bruce’s confused eyes.

“You don’t know.” Bruce’s tone was calm and thoughtful, and he once more crossed his arms over his chest.

“I don’t know anything about the people who sent me to Earth. I don’t know why they did. I was only one when my parents found me, or so we think.”

It felt good to have someone else to tell this to. Ma and Pa would sometimes look hurt when Clark talked about  _ them _ too much. They didn’t want to be shut out or forgotten, discarded in favor of whoever Clark found. They needn’t ever worry but Clark understood.

Bruce turned his words over and over in his mind. All those powers, their origin and what that implied, should terrify him. For some reason, he still felt safe, though.

Bruce confessed, “I don’t know what I’m doing, either.”

“You seem to.”

“I didn’t plan correctly today and got hurt. I almost died yesterday.”

Clark’s eyes flitted up to the red cut on his temple at the reminder.

“How did you almost die?” The question was filled with quiet worry.

“Fell into the ocean two miles offshore. I didn’t design the suit for swimming. A boat came along just in time.”

“I’m glad it did.”

Bruce smiled genuinely. Clark watched that smile and soon was returning it.

Their first kiss was shy on account of both parties. Their second was slow and gentle and meandered into the third, fourth, and fifth.

They made it to bed in the most literal sense of the words, close as could be on the twin mattress. The moon crept across the sky, sending a pool of blue light across their legs and then up the wall. Bruce fell asleep for real in the small hours of the morning, worn out but relaxed. Clark stayed awake and listened to his deep, slow breathing.

Life happens in a fragile series of events, interconnected and purposeful. People either meet or never meet, and there are reasons for each outcome, seemingly random and accidental. Bruce in his freefall couldn’t have chosen which window to land beside, and Clark couldn’t have decided to be at home when he did. Yet if some higher power had decided to show themselves, it couldn’t have seemed more fateful.


End file.
